Friends From Afar
by Artist2519
Summary: Racetrack and Crutchy unfold memories and truths about their long-forgotten pasts. REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Okay, here it is. My first fic. I actually turned this in as a story we had to right for school and got an A! Believe it or not, my literature teacher has seen Newsies too. I hope you guys like. Don't forget to review, review, review!

**Friends from Afar**

Crutchy opened his eyes as he heard Kloppman coming up the stairs to wake all the newsies. They all soon got up and began to wash and dress at the sound of Kloppman's yells. Crutchy got up, grabbed his crutch from the side of his bed, and walked over to the sink to wash his face. As he splashed his face with water, he looked in the mirror and noticed that Racetrack, another newsy, sitting on a bed by himself. This was unusual, especially for Racetrack who was loud and talkative and usually liked to be in the thick of things. The other newsboys hadn't noticed a thing and had already gone downstairs.

Crutchy frowned out of curiosity. _What was going on? _

"Race?" He didn't appear to have heard him. "Race?" Crutchy limped over to where Racetrack was sitting. "Race? Are you okay?" He tapped Racetrack lightly on the shoulder. Racetrack jumped and looked around.

"Wha-? Oh, yeah. I'se gotta' get goin'." He then grabbed his cigar from a nearby nightstand and took off through the door.

The day went by slowly. That was mostly because it was the middle of July so everything seemed ten times slower then usual due to the sweltering heat. Crutchy was finding it hard to concentrate on selling his papers that day which was mainly due to what he had seen that morning. Something strange had been going on with Racetrack and he was determined to find out what it was. Crutchy was so deep in his thoughts that he wasn't watching where he was going. He bumped straight into Jack, another newsy and good friend of his.

"Sorry, Jack. Wasn't watchin' where I was goin'," he sqeaked quietly.

"Dat's okay, Crutchy, just make sure ta stay out of my sellin' spot!" Jack laughed.

"Yeah, sure," Crutchy said distractedly, not really listening at all.

_Christopher Morris and Anthony Higgins were the closest friends at the orphanage in the Bronx. Both were devilish troublemakers and sweet little angels at the same time. The nuns who ran the orphanage had always given them beatings and lectures when they had been caught doing things they knew they were caught misbehaving, but overall, the nuns were quite fond of them._

_Anthony, a boy of Italian descent, was smaller with dark hair and high cheekbones and a knack for gambling. Christopher, who was Irish, was tall and skinny with big ears and dark auburn hair and had a small, sweet smile that just made you melt. Anthony was the more daring of the two, but Christopher had the bigger heart and together they made quiet a pair. They were so close you would have thought they were brothers. You never saw one without the other. Not until the accident, at least. _

That night all the newsies had dinner together at _Tibby's_, for it was Mush's birthday and everyone had pitched in to help by him a nice dinner.

"I feel like some tightwad!" he mumbled with a mouthfull of food. Though, it didn't seem to bother him. He had mashed potatoes at the corner of his mouth and he was gulping down is milk like there was no tomorrow. All the newsies laughed, even Racetrack, who had been quiet all day. Crutchy wasn't convinced though. He could tell Racetrack was just itching to leave. Crutchy watched as he pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and lit it.

"Figuring out what he's up to might take a while,"Crutchy thought, "but it's gotta' be worth it. I've neva' seen him act like this before."He quickly finished his soup and decided if Racetrack wasn't acting normally by the end of the week, he would ask him about it. What he would say, he had no idea, but he didn't really want to think about it. Racetrack didn't like to show any bit of emotion to anybody and Crutchy didn't want to be the one to ask him to.

The next few days were just the same if not worse. Racetrack was barely talking at all now and some of the other newsies were beginning to notice. Kid Blink, another newsy with blond hair and an eye patch, came over to talk to Crutchy to ask him about it.

"Crutchy, you noticed Race lately? He's been actin' strange for da past few days. Do ya know anythin'?" he asked. He spoke in a whisper as though to make sure he couldn't be overheard, even though all the other newsies were downstairs.

Crutchy shook his head. "Sorry."

Kid Blink sighed and replied, "I don't know what's up with him. I suppose we should just wait 'till he shakes it off." He shrugged and walked away. Crutchy watched him go and then turned around to look at the bed next to his. Racetrack was sitting there, reading the day's newspaper. Crutchy sighed. There wasn't anything else to do about it. He took a deep breath and-

"Race?"

Racetrack looked up. "Yeah, Crutchy?"

"I, uh, well, uh..." he stammered. This was harder then he thought it would be. "You haven't been ya'self lately an' I was wonderin' if yous was okay." His words spilled out of him in a great rush. Crutchy blushed as Racetrack's face hardened.

"Nah, I'm fine. No worse den usual, I guess." He smiled but it was a fake, strained smile. Then he went back to reading his paper. Crutchy continued to watch him and wasn't surprised to see that Racetrack's eyes weren't moving across the paper, but rather staring blankly in the same spot. He was in the same reverie as the previous week. Crutchy had only known Racetrack since he had become a newsy, but he had always felt a strange connection to him somehow.

He looked at the clock. It was already quarter to ten! He'd think more about this tomorrow. He quickly changed his clothes and went to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Okay, I hope you guys like it. Don't forget to review!!!!!

_It had been a warm summer day and Sister Perpetua had taken all of the children out to play. Christopher and Anthony were, as usual, up to no good. The younger children watched as they tied a jump rope to a wooden sword as they planned their next scheme._

_"Chris," he instructed,"you go get da marble and see I'll see if I can sneak in to da kitchens for da butter." _

_Christopher nodded. He wasn't exactly sure what Anthony was planning but his ideas were always good and certainly brought up a good laugh. He then turned to walk over to where some of the other children sat playing marbles. _

"_Heya, would you mind if I spot a marble off ya?" he asked them kindly. The children shook their heads and picked up a marble off the side to give to him. It was a small, round, black marble and when Christopher took it, it slipped from his fingers and rolled off onto the cobblestone street. He ran out to get and as he bent down to pick it up, he looked up just in time to see a horse drawn carriage speeding right at him before-_

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It was halfway through the day and Crutchy was already tired. His leg was beginning to bother him, but he ignored it. This happened every time after he'd after walked on it without a break for more than three hours. He continued on until he found his favorite park. He looked around for a nice spot then sat down on a bench. He was hungry. He pulled out a bread bun from his pocket that some nuns had given him that morning. Most of the newsies thought nuns were crazy old bats who belonged to a sort of cult, but Crutchy knew different. He had grown up in an orphanage run by nuns and had always had great respect for them. His favorite nun who had raised him in the orphanage was Sister Perpetua. She had been a loose woman, or looser than the other nuns anyway, who had been tight and strict. She was the only nun who had ever found any of the pranks he and Anthony had pulled amusing. Anthony had been his best friend. He still missed him sometimes. Crutchy looked at his watch. He had been sitting and reminiscing about his childhood for ten minutes! He picked up his papers and walked quickly to the main square still thinking about Anthony.


	3. Chapter 3

_Anthony stopped and turned on the spot as he heard the noises: the shout of a man, the panicked whinny of a horse, the skid of wheels, and finally, the frightened cry of a small boy. Anthony ran as fast as he could toward the source of the noise. He stopped as he saw the bundle of people all scrunching together to look at something on the ground. He ran up to the group and began to push people out of the way. He squeezed and shoved until he could see what was going on, not knowing what he was about to see would scar him for life. It was Christopher. Lying on the ground, with blood everywhere, was Christopher. He had bruises and cuts all over and there was a deep, long, gash across his right leg. His eyes were closed and his breath was shallow. Anthony bent down on his knees. He was in shock. What was he going to do? He needed to get help._

"_Someone get a doctor!" he yelled at the swarm of people. "Chris?" he shook him slightly. "Christopher, c'mon wake up!" He continued to shake him, more vigorously this time. "Wake up Chris! Wake up!" _

_Tears splashed down his front as he tried to pull Christopher from the ground. He fell to his knees once more as clouds filled the darkening sky. An ambulance soon came and quickly took Christopher off to the hospital. It began to rain. Anthony remained outside on the ground until Sister Perpetua came and brought him inside._

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Crutchy managed to sell the rest of his papers before dusk, then, met Jack on his way back to the Lodging House. They walked back together discussing various things such as the article in the paper about the maniac who tried to rob the mayor or the stickball game played earlier that morning.

"Di'ya see Les hit dat double? Dat was great!" Jack remembered aloud, smiling.

Crutchy nodded and laughed. "After Boots dropped it and went lookin' for it while it was behind him da whole time." He laughed again, and so did Jack. They talked a little more and then fell silent as they turned onto another street.

"Hey, uh, Crutchy," Jack's voice was low and he looked around as though to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Have you noticed Racetrack lately? He seems kinda, I dunno, distracted, ya know what I mean? I was jus' wonderin' if ya know anythin'."

Crutchy blushed. He knew the reason Jack was asking him this now, rather then at the Lodging House, was because he knew how Crutchy reacted to pressure; he cracked. He wasn't a very good secret keeper to tell the truth and Jack didn't want him to run off with an excuse if he knew something, for excuses were easily found at the Lodging House. He didn't mind though, because he didn't know anything anyway. He shook his head and raised his eyebrows.

"I'm surprised you don't know anything. You're closer to him den I am. Why are ya askin' me?"

Jack sighed and said, "I dunno, you always seem to know stuff the other newsies don't, ya know? You always seem to be able to work things out of people even though ya neva' talk to 'em, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Crutchy smiled. "Everybody's good at somethin', right?" They had reached the Lodging House. They walked inside and went upstairs to get ready for bed.

Crutchy changed and put the money he'd earned that day in a jar he kept under his bed. All the newsies were getting for bed. Crutchy looked around for Racetrack, but didn't see him anywhere. He stood up and walked over to his bed, but on the way kicked something on the ground under Racetrack's bed. He got down on his knees to pick up whatever it was and began to grope under the bed. He finally felt something small and round on top of what seemed to be a piece of paper. He'd pulled them both out and looked at what he had in his hand. He gasped. In his hand he held a small, dusty black marble and a newspaper article concerning the injury of a boy from an orphanage in the Bronx. Crutchy's eyes grew wide and his mouth, very dry. His hands began to shake and he stood up so quickly, he knocked over a nearby nightstand, but he didn't care. He ran as quickly as he could towards the stairs. He had to find Racetrack.


	4. Chapter 4

_About an hour later Sister Perpetua agreed to take Anthony to the hospital to see Christopher. They arrived as quickly as they could and as soon they entered through the doors a nurse rushed over to them._

_"Are you from the orphanage?" she asked in a small, squeaky voice. They nodded and she beckoned for them to follow her. She led them into a small room with white walls, a white door, white window shades, white everything! Christopher was lying on a bed with white sheets. His leg and head were heavily bandaged, he still had many cuts and bruises, and, he still appeared to be unconscious._

_"How is he Doctor?" Sister Perpetua asked a man in the corner._

_Would you mind if I had a few words with you in private?" he said shooting half a glance at Anthony. Anthony turned and looked at Sister Perpetua._

_"We'll only be a minute," she said "Go and wait outside the room." Anthony scowled. He walked outside, closed the door behind him, and immediately pressed his ear against the keyhole._

_"It doesn't look as though we can help him much," he heard the doctor say. "He is so small, and his immune system is weak. How old did you say he was again?" _

_"Seven." There was worry in Sister Perpetua's voice now._

_"His leg was permanently damaged and he may have a concussion but we don't know," the doctor continued. "It doesn't look as though he'll survive the night. I'm sorry." Anthony pushed away from the door. He had heard enough. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he clenched his fists. He ran. Shoving people out of the way, he pushed through the hospital doors and kept running. And he didn't stop for a long, long time._

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Crutchy went up the stairs to the attic as quickly as he could, which was pretty fast considering that he used a crutch. He opened the door when he reached the top and peered into the darkness.

"Race?" It took some time for eyes to adjust to the dark. "Race, are you in here?" He felt around in the air and found what he was looking for. He pulled the string that turned on the light. It wasn't very bright, but it made it easier to see. He scanned the room for Racetrack and found him lurking halfway in the shadows, sitting on a pillow, holding his knees.

"Hey Crutchy," he said turning around at the sudden appearance of light.

Crutchy swallowed and said, "Race, I really gotta talk to ya."

Racetrack puffed on his cigar. "I know what ya gonna say. All da other newsies have already been askin' what's up with me behind my back, but your da only one who actually dared ta ask me. I appreciate it Crutchy, really I do, but I'm really not willin' ta spill my secrets out to ya."

Thoughts raced through his head as he tried to think of what to say: "How am I gonna tell him what I found out? Does he know already? Is he even who I think he is?" Crutchy's throat seemed drier then sand.

"I, um, well, I, uh, found somethin' dat I hoped you might be able ta, uh, explain ta me." He then showed Racetrack the article and the marble he had found under Racetrack's bed. Racetrack's face seemed to turn to stone.

"Where'd you get dis?"

"I found it on da floor by your bed. I kicked da marble by accident and den I bent ta pick it up and found dis." He said, in an almost questioningly way, indicating the newspaper article.

Racetrack sighed and put his head in is hands. "Alright, I'll tell ya. I gotta tell somebody before I burst. It's drivin' me insane."

"What's drivin' you insane?" Crutchy asked quietly.

Racetrack shrugged. "Guilt, I guess."

Crutchy was burning to tell Racetrack what he had thought he pieced together, but he decided to wait. This was the most he had heard Racetrack say about his feelings since, well, forever! He limped over to where Racetrack was sitting and sat on another pillow next to Racetrack.

"What do you have to be guilty about?"

Racetrack smiled sadly. "It's a long story."

"I have time."

Racetrack looked at him and hesitated. Finally, he began, "Alright, well, when I was a kid, I lived at a orphanage way over in da Bronx. I had dis one friend, da sweetest kid ya ever met, name was Chris Morris."

Crutchy let out a small gasp when he said this.

"What's da matta?" Racetrack said quickly, looking up.

"Nothin', I just, uh, thought I saw a mouse." he lied.

"Alright. Well, anyway, I used ta always hang around with him. He got into an accident when we was about seven years old. Da doctors didn't even think he would make it through da night even, so, I took off, ran away. Became a newsy.

"A week or so ago I got a letter from one of da nuns who used to run da orphanage, Sister Perpetua. Said she recognized me in dat one picture we were in for da strike, you know, da on in da Sun? She said dat Christopher was okay and dat he had run off too, a few weeks after me."

"Why does dat make you feel guilty though?" Crutchy asked, slightly confused.

"'Cause I ran off!" Racetrack said bitterly. "I ran off when he was okay! I left him, deserted him. He probably dinks dat I'm a bum friend now, wherever he is."

Crutchy watched and for the first time, saw a silent tear trickling down Racetrack's cheek. "I feel worse about dat den anything I've done before." he said, his voice shaking. Crutchy stared as Racetrack bit his lip. Racetrack, the one newsy who was known especially for not showing any emotion towards anything, was crying.

"Well, are you gonna look for him?" Crutchy asked cautiously.

Racetrack shook his head. "Nah," He said. "He probably neva wants ta see me again."

"You don't know dat," Crutchy said.

"Yeah, I do." He muttered quietly.

"Racetrack," Crutchy began. "What's your name?"

Racetrack looked up from his hands. "It's Racetrack, stupid. What else would it be?"

"Is it Anthony?"

Racetrack stared at him as though he had never seen anything like him. "How'd you know dat? I neva' tol' nobody my real name."

Crutchy smiled. "Do you know my real name is?"

Racetrack stared at Crutchy for a long time. "You're not... it's not... it ain't-"

"Christopher Benjamin Morris." Crutchy said, a grin widening on his face.

"No, it isn't. You're playin me, Crutchy, you're playin me." Racetrack said, his eyes widening.

"How would I know dat your name is Anthony Joseph Higgins, then, huh?" Crutchy said, still smiling at Racetrack.

Racetrack looked down at the floor, his eyes still wide with surprise. "But how...?"

Crutchy smiled again. "I made it through the night and, after a few weeks, turned out to be okay. I was pretty weak, yeah, but okay. It was a miracle, I swear."

Racetrack grimaced. "I guess your pretty mad at me den, huh?"

Crutchy laughed. "'Course not!"

Racetrack looked up. "You're not sayin dat just ta make me feel nice or nothin'?"

"If I was still angry I wouldn't of asked ya about it."

Racetrack's face broke into the first smile he had worn in days. "You're not gonna get all mushy-gushy on me now, are ya?" he asked, even though it didn't sound like he would mind it if he did.

Crutchy laughed and Racetrack joined in. For a long time they couldn't stop. The door of the attic opened and Mush, another of the newsboys, walked up the stairs.

"There you guys are," he exclaimed. "The whole lodgin' house has been lookin' for ya. Are you okay?"

They nodded and with smiles on there faces, Anthony and Christopher walked downstairs together, ready to tuck in for bed.

**Author's Note**

I just had to write this story! I mean take a look at what happens in the movie. I've found a couple of weird coincidences. For example, that ending in "Seize the Day" where the only two newsies left standing (besides Dave and Jack) are Crutchy and Racetrack. And there's also that time where Racetrack was the only one who yelled at Crutchy to scram when the bulls were after them for ripping up all the papers. Hey, I couldn't ignore it. I wanted to write something about the two of them, so I came up with this. Tell me what you think - **REVIEW**! :-)


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